Invulnerable
by Ellex
Summary: Rodney McKay learns that having an artificial ATA gene isn't all it's cracked up to be. COMPLETE
1. Default Chapter

Title: Invulnerable 1/10

Author: Ellex

Rating: 13+

Category: H/C, Drama, Angst

Season/Episode: Set between "Before I Sleep" and "The Brotherhood"

Feedback: Please! And thank you.

Disclaimer: Stargate:Atlantis and it's characters do not belong to me and I make no material profit from this story. How much more clearly can I put it?

Spoilers: Anything before "Before I Sleep", specifically "Sanctuary" and "Poisoning the Well"

Warnings: violence, lots of dead Wraith

Summary: Rodney McKay learns that having an artificial ATA gene isn't all it's cracked up to be.

Beta: MachingMonkey, aka Leah, was kind enough to beta the first half of the story. I couldn't have finished this without her excellent suggestions.

A/N: Credit goes to drschatten for the original plotbunny. Hope you like it!

Czech:ne no

Boze God

Pataskala (emphasis on the second syllable) is a real place in Ohio!

Part One

It was truly amazing what stupid things ran through Rodney McKay's mind when he was staring death in face literally and right now all he could think was that this sucked. It really, really sucked. It sucked like a great big sucking thing. He felt he had plenty of experience with things that sucked like, say, his entire childhood -and was pretty confident that this was unquestionably the absolute suckiest thing that had ever happened to him.

It wasn't actually the prospect of death that bothered him, although that was bad enough. It wasn't even the whole aging incredibly quickly thing, either. He was old enough to have begun to realize that even though 'youthful vigor' wasn't exactly something he could really remember ever enjoying, his body was moving inexorably past its prime. No, what really bothered him was pain. Brendan Gall had made it very clear to him that being drained by a Wraith was an incredibly painful experience, and Rodney hated pain. Really, really hated it.

So the fact that a grinning Wraith was standing in front of him sent Rodney into full panic mode.

He began to back away, raising his Beretta, but hadn't taken more than a single step before the Wraith's hand shot out and hit him in the middle of his chest. The impact made him stagger and drop the gun, and he felt a horrible suction from the palm of its hand. The taloned fingers dug into his flesh and pulled him closer with a horrifying ease.

A frigid burn spread quickly from the Wraith's hand, sliding through his veins like ice water. He tried to push it away, dreading the sensation Brendan had described to him, of having his very soul sucked out of him.

So he was completely unprepared to feel like every brain cell had frozen solid.

The pain stole his breath, his thoughts, all his senses. He was blinded and deafened. His mouth was full of ashes, his skin drilled with a million needles of ice until the nerve endings overloaded and all awareness of his physical body was swept away.

* * *

The sun shone warmly through the colored geometric patterns of Atlantis' windows at 0900 hours as Major Sheppard's team gathered in front of the Stargate. As was her usual custom, Elizabeth Weir stood on the balcony of the Command Center to see them off.

Today they were headed out on what she hoped would be a nice boring mission to meet the Pataskalans, with whom the Athosians sometimes traded. Hunting on the mainland had proven extremely successful, and they had meat as well as fur and feathers with which to trade for replacements to the crops that had been lost to the hurricane.

The weather had been a little chilly since the huge storm, and although the city itself maintained a constant temperature, Elizabeth was amused to see that with the exception of Sheppard, who never seemed to feel any discomfort no matter what the weather, the rest of the team had gravitated to a large patch of sunshine streaming down on the Gate Room. Rodney and Teyla had turned their faces into the light and wore similar expressions of bliss. Teyla's bronze skin and copper hair shone like polished metals in the sunshine, and Elizabeth allowed herself a moment's jealousy of the Athosian woman's exotic beauty.

Bliss sat oddly on Rodney's face; only the closed eyes, the slightly lifted corners of his crooked mouth, and the fact that he held his head at the exact same angle as Teyla told Elizabeth that he was enjoying the warmth.

Lieutenant Ford also stood in the large rectangle of light, but he was busy double-checking his equipment. Seeming to sense her gaze, he looked up, grinned, and flipped her a jaunty salute. She lifted her hand to return the gesture, but at that moment the Stargate finished dialing, and the event horizon spilled into the Gate Room. All heads turned instinctively towards it, including Aiden's, and he missed her wave.

"Good luck," she called as the team disappeared through the liquid shimmer of the 'Gate. 'And please, let them come back safely', she prayed as she turned away.

* * *

The village sat in a valley a few miles from the Stargate. It looked like a small, sleepy Pennsylvania Dutch town lifted straight out of pre-Civil War America, complete with colorful hex signs painted on the buildings. In this case, the hex signs bore symbols from the Ancient alphabet. Sloping green fields were dotted with pale gray creatures like sheep if sheep had three-toed feet with massive claws like a velociraptor and a single, slightly curved horn in the middle of their foreheads.

The entire village appeared completely deserted. They found a basket of fruit lying spilled across the path, a half-finished patchwork quilt trailing out of an open doorway, an infant's hand-carved rattle lying on the front step of an empty house.

It wasn't until they stood in the kitchen of one of the houses, looking at the remains of an abandoned meal that anyone spoke.

"The Wraith were here," Teyla said flatly, expressing what they were all thinking. "We are too late by no more than a day." She looked near tears.

"We'll take a look around for survivors before we head back to the Stargate." Sheppard's tone was grim.

* * *

Rodney hadn't meant to get separated from the others. He forgot sometimes that he was part of a team, that he needed to let them know what he was doing. He'd been on his own, answerable to no one, for most of his adult life; he wasn't used to people caring about him caring for him and was still surprised by how easily he'd begun to care in return.

So when he spotted what appeared to be a solar energy collector on the roof of one of the farmhouses, he just stopped to look at it. His teammates kept moving, used to him lagging slightly sometimes more than slightly behind. Without thinking about it, Rodney just followed his impulses. The Wraith had left, the little village appeared to be completely deserted; his normally exceptional sense of caution was subsumed by his scientific curiosity.

Inside the farmhouse he found that the solar collector seemed to have a hookup to a large cast-iron stove in the kitchen, the more advanced technology awkwardly interfaced with the primitive wood-burning contraption. He wasn't sure what it was supposed to do ignite the wood, perhaps? but he was more interested in the collector itself, and for that he needed to get up on the roof. The hookup led to a trapdoor in the ceiling of the second floor. Slats nailed to the wall formed a ladder up to the attic, but the opening was so narrow Rodney had to remove his bulky modular vest to fit through.

He was gleefully making plans to return to Pataskala with a team of scientists to remove the solar collector and take it back to Atlantis when his radio crackled to life.

"McKay! McKay, where are you? There's a Wraith here! McKay, respond!" Sheppard's voice was hoarse and frantic.

Rodney stood transfixed, all thought of the solar panels banished from his mind. Tapping his earpiece, he replied, "I'm in one of the houses, Major. Where are you?"

"Gate side of the village. If you come in from the east, you'll be directly behind it."

He scrambled down the ladder, barely taking note of the amazing fact that he was heading toward the danger rather than away from it, as would have been the intelligent thing to do. But either Sheppard or Ford was certain to do something stupidly heroic and would need Rodney to figure out how to get them out of trouble.

In his haste, he left the vest where he'd dropped it under the trapdoor.

"It's on the move. Which house are you in, Rodney?" Sheppard's voice was loud in his ear.

"The one with the solar panels on the roof," he answered, pulling out his Beretta. He took the steps two at a time and shoved the front door open.

The Wraith was standing right outside the door and he almost ran straight into it.


	2. Part Two

Invulnerable – Part Two

Rodney would never know if he had lost consciousness or how much time had passed, but when he came back to himself to his mind and his body he was still standing.

The first thing he saw was the Wraith, far too close, its hand still pressed against him. The skin of its face looked dry and brittle, eye sockets empty, lips shriveled away from needle-sharp teeth. A sudden violent shiver swept through him, and the Wraith fell away and collapsed in a dusty pile of fragmented bones and powdered flesh. Rodney staggered back, sliding to the ground when his back hit the wall of the house.

He couldn't stop shaking, heart hammering against his ribcage as he tried to take deep breaths. He couldn't take his eyes off the remains of the Wraith, although it wasn't moving and clearly would never move again.

The sound of running footsteps pulled him out of his shocked state and to his feet, but the support of the wall at his back was the only thing that kept him upright. He fumbled for the Beretta but his numb fingers couldn't hold it and it fell to the ground again just as Sheppard turned the corner, P90 at the ready.

Rodney's relief was so great it was all he could do to keep from grabbing Sheppard, if only to make sure he was really there. Sheppard's quick gaze took in the shaking scientist and the withered corpse with one glance.

"Where is it, McKay?" he snapped.

It took Rodney a moment to find his voice. "Where is what?" he asked hoarsely.

"The Wraith. This is the only way it could have come. Did it hit you? Your nose is bleeding."

Rodney's hand went automatically to his face and found a thin trickle of blood flowing from one nostril. He blotted it on his sleeve and looked up to meet Sheppard's concerned gaze.

"Are you okay?"

"I've just had a close encounter with a Wraith, what do you think?" The snark spilled out of his mouth automatically and brought a grin to John's face.

"You sound fine to me. Now, which way did the Wraith go?"

The scientist pointed wordlessly at the dusty pile of bones.

"That's a dead body, Rodney," the major said with surprising gentleness. "Which way did the Wraith go? I know it came by here."

Rodney swallowed hard and tried to put his jumbled thoughts into speech.

"That _is_…_was_…the Wraith, Major. It…it tried to…" His brain finally caught up with current events, and he turned a horrified gaze on Sheppard. "Oh my god, did it…am I…" He felt his face for wrinkles with shaking hands.

Sheppard made an impatient sound and pulled his hands away from his face. "For the last time, Rodney, which way did the Wraith go?"

A surge of anger gave him the strength to push away from the wall and walk stiffly over to the desiccated corpse. "The Wraith is right here, Major. Just a few minutes ago it was very much alive. I know because it tried to it " his voice tapered off and Rodney looked down at his chest. His jacket had fallen closed, so he pulled the edges aside and they both stared. The blue shirt underneath was ruined by a large hole with singed edges, surrounded by five smaller holes. The whole area was stained with blood.

It seemed like just the sight of the wound made it start to hurt: just a tingle, then a cold burning that he tried not to find familiar. It was hard to draw the deep breaths he desperately craved because every time his chest moved, the burning increased. A wave of dizziness washed over him, and the world tilted sickeningly before his eyes, so he closed them. A pair of strong warm hands grasped his upper arms and steadied him.

All his attention was now focused on trying to breathe through the freezing pain that seemed to expand across his chest, icy tendrils racing up his ribs to curl around him and crush the air from his lungs. Numb hands caught Sheppard's pocketed vest and grasped it with the desperation of a drowning man, then the suffocating agony in his chest surged up into his throat and he choked on it. Through the roaring in his ears he heard John yell his name. Suddenly there were gentle fingers at his throat, feeling for his pulse; the warmth was soothing on his cold skin, so he untangled one hand from Sheppard's vest and put it over the fingers to keep them there.

The pain and dizziness faded as quickly as they'd come, so he straightened his knees and stood upright, and he heard his name again; but this time it was a whispered gasp, and he opened his eyes to see Sheppard's face, white and wide-eyed with fear. It seemed the only thing holding the Major up was Rodney's grasp on his vest.

He let go and allowed Sheppard pull his hand away from Rodney's throat, and watched in astonishment as the Major dropped to his knees, panting harshly.

"Doctor McKay, what happened?"

Rodney turned to find Ford and Teyla staring with concern at the major, who had closed his eyes and was breathing deeply with obvious effort, cradling his limp right hand against his chest.

"I don't – the Wraith – " Rodney started, then spread his hands to indicate his confusion. "I don't know."

Teyla was surprised by his brief, candid response. It usually took the scientist several minutes and a great deal of temporizing before he could admit to ignorance.

Ford knelt in front of Sheppard and said firmly, "I think we should get back to Atlantis and have Dr. Beckett check you out, sir. I don't think there's anything else here." John nodded and allowed Aiden to help him to his feet. When he stumbled, Ford snapped, "Dr. McKay, you help the Major so Teyla and I can cover us."

Rodney moved toward them, but Sheppard flinched and said hoarsely, "No…no, you help me, Ford. Rodney's hurt, too. We need to get out of here."

"I – I'm okay, let's g-go," Rodney stuttered. His heart was racing and he felt shaky and jittery and exhausted.

* * *

Rodney was starting to feel better by the time they reached the Stargate. His hands were still shaking, and he was certain that if he tried to fire Sheppard's P90, which Ford had given him to carry, he'd be lucky to hit the broad side of a barn. But the pain in his chest had done no more than twinge since Sheppard's collapse, and the jitters felt more like he'd had a few too many cups of coffee than the adrenaline overload of fear. 

That was okay, though: it was minor compared to the fact that he'd nearly been killed by a Wraith. For a moment, after the major found him, he'd been terrified that he was going to end up like Brendan Gall, dying by inches until he couldn't stand it anymore and ended his own life. Suicide had always been incomprehensible to him. If he tried it he'd probably bungle it and leave himself even worse off, paralyzed or brain-damaged or something equally unthinkable. The thought of having to ask for help to die – how pathetic would that be? Brendan, as hurt and weakened as he'd been, had managed it on his own.

Aiden's voice, asking him to dial Atlantis, woke him from his morbid train of thought, and he looked up, surprised that they had reached the Stargate without his even noticing.

But the moment he stepped through the Stargate, from the chill dampness of Pataskala to the dry warmth of Atlantis, everything came crashing down.

Ford and Sheppard had gone through the 'Gate first. John was walking unsupported, but moved like every muscle in his body ached. Rodney and Teyla followed them, but Rodney hadn't taken more than a few steps when his entire body was suffused with an intense chill and the nervous energy he'd felt a moment ago drained away.

The P90 seemed incredibly heavy, and as it slipped from his fingers it occurred to him to be grateful to Sheppard for drilling it into him always to keep the safety engaged unless there was actually something to shoot at.

Everyone ducked when the weapon hit the floor, clattering loudly in the sudden silence.

Rodney stared down at it sadly, wishing vaguely that he dared to bend down and pick it up, but considering the increasing vertigo he felt just standing there, he didn't think he'd be able to get back up again.

It was so cold in here! He made a mental note to check the environmental controls as soon as he had a spare moment – which would probably be ten years from now, if they all lived that long. He felt a shiver pass through him and clutched his jacket closer, belatedly recalling that he'd left his modular vest back in that farmhouse, and he was going to get chewed out over that. He'd probably have to go back and get it, and Pataskala was now high on his list of places he never wanted to go to again.

"Rodney?" Elizabeth's voice penetrated the fog in his mind.

"Ummm…" he said intelligently, "I think my blood sugar is bottoming out."

Teyla, still beside him, immediately pulled a power bar from a pocket of her vest, broke off a piece and pressed it into his hand. He automatically put it in his mouth and chewed slowly as they guided him after Ford and Sheppard in the direction of the infirmary.

TBC…


	3. Part Three

A/N: Thanks, everyone, for the wonderful reviews!

* * *

Part Three

"Carson, I feel fine! I'd like to get back to work." Rodney plucked at the IV in his arm. The glucose drip to which he was attached was almost empty and the skin around the needle itched.

The Scotsman looked exasperated. "Rodney, there's a wound in your chest from a Wraith that you received not four hours ago that looks a week old and you just had a hypoglycemic episode. You're going to stay right here, for the rest of the day at the very least. I'll want to take another blood sample from you later. If you still feel well tomorrow morning, you can go back to work."

Rodney slumped on the infirmary bed. "More blood? Okay, okay, Dracula. I'll stay. How's Sheppard?" He cast an almost furtive glance at the Major, who had fallen asleep while being examined, and now lay snoring gently on another bed.

Teyla, who was usually examined by the verbose Dr. Biro, chose that moment to return to the main infirmary with the expression Rodney had come to realize meant that she was exercising extreme patience. He'd had that look directed at him several times and wasn't quite sure why he disliked it intensely. She made straight for Rodney and Carson.

"The major is apparently suffering from nothing worse than exhaustion and a touch of anemia," Carson addressed his reply to both of them. "Which is odd, since he was the picture of health at his last exam just a few days ago. But a little rest, a little food and a few supplements should set him to rights."

"Doctor McKay, you look much better," Teyla greeted him after giving Carson her formal nod of acknowledgement. Rodney sat up straighter, gratified that she had noticed.

"I feel much better, but there's no telling Carson. He wants me to stay for observation." He directed a sour look at his friend. "Could I at least get some work done while I'm sitting here? I could get my laptop." He moved to hop down from the bed, but Carson pushed him back.

"I'm sure Teyla will fetch your laptop, won't you, love?" Beckett raised an eyebrow at Teyla, who smiled.

"It would be my pleasure. The device is in your lab, Doctor McKay?"

Rodney nodded, surprised by her response. He wasn't entirely comfortable with the Athosian beautiful women tended to make him nervous but he'd managed to avoid insulting her, partially because he tried to avoid getting involved in conversations with her. He didn't expect her to be so nice to him, though.

"I want you to try and take a nap, Rodney. Teyla can bring your laptop this evening. Perhaps you'd like to come by for dinner with the boys, lass?"

She smiled. "I would like that very much, Doctor. I will ask Lieutenant Ford to come as well, if you permit."

* * *

Rodney hated to admit it, but he'd fallen asleep almost right away after Teyla left. Some part of him was aware that he was dreaming he never confused reality with dreams but that didn't make the dream any less disturbing.

He felt chilled, not quite cold but not warm enough to be comfortable. It was the images that were disturbing: standing before a fully charged ZedPM, putting his hands on it and pulling the energy out of the device and into himself; the Wraith, its avaricious smile turned seductive as it sucked the life out of Sheppard and invited him to share; the even stranger image, although this one felt more real, more like an actual memory, of the Wraith with its feeding hand pressed against his own chest. He clutched its arm, feeling the unpleasantly rubbery, slightly damp texture of its skin under his fingers. He fought against it, and found himself pulling the cold vitality out of the Wraith like he had done to the ZedPM. It filled him, made him feel strong and sated, power moving sensuously through him to inhabit every cell and warm the spaces between. He wanted it all, and when he had pulled every drop of life from the Wraith, it crumbled into dust before his eyes.

He sat up, shuddering. "Oh God, it was a dream, please, it was just a dream!"

"It was just a dream, Rodney," a familiar voice sounded from a few feet away, and he looked over to see Sheppard on the hard, narrow infirmary bed next to his own. He was lying on his side, facing Rodney, one hand curled loosely under his chin. His eyes were closed.

"Major?" he asked tentatively. One hazel eye opened, then the other, and the soldier sighed deeply but didn't move.

"You were dreaming, Rodney. Actually, it sounded like you were enjoying it."

Rodney flushed. "You try dreaming about the Wraith and see how much you enjoy it," he snapped. Sheppard raised an eyebrow, and Rodney realized that his friend had undoubtedly already had plenty of nightmares about them. "Uh…sorry. I didn't mean to wake you, Major."

"You _can_ call me John, you know." He stretched luxuriously, but didn't sit up. "And you didn't really wake me up. I was just dozing. Beckett got me up a little while ago to give me a shot. Why it couldn't have waited a little longer…" Sheppard grimaced.

"A shot?" Rodney was immediately fully alert and ready to freak out.

"Relax, McKay. It was just iron and B12, stuff like that." He waved his hand dismissively. "Beckett said I was a little anemic."

"He told me earlier." Rodney rubbed his hand the IV needle had been removed while he slept and plucked at the front of the ugly red scrubs Carson had insisted he change into. The thin cotton was slightly damp with sweat. "Major John what happened?"

"That's what I was going to ask you. What the hell happened to that Wraith? And what was that that attack you had? You started gagging, I thought you were going to choke, and then everything got kinda fuzzy. The next thing I know, I'm on the ground, Ford's telling me we're heading back to Atlantis, and I feel like I just ran a marathon and got run over by a truck at the finish line."

"How should I know?" Rodney replied, and his voice shook a little. "It grabbed me and " he really didn't want to remember this, but he was going to have to tell Carson and Elizabeth the grisly details. So far, he had only given them the basic facts. Maybe if he told Sheppard now, it would be easier to repeat later. The others hadn't encountered the Wraith face to face before Sheppard had.

"The thing was trying to feed on me. It burned like ice – like the blood in my veins had turned to liquid nitrogen." He put his hand lightly on his chest, feeling the gauze pad covering the Wraith's handiwork through the thin fabric of the scrubs. "It wasn't anything like Gall described. My head hurt so much I guess I passed out."

He glanced at Sheppard to see if the soldier was going to tease him about fainting, but his friend just nodded, looking supremely comfortable if slightly rumpled. John still lay on his side so he could watch the scientist, who had turned to dangle his legs over the side of the bed.

"When I woke up, I guess it was still " Rodney made a vague gesture towards the middle of his chest, "um holding me but it looked kind of dried out. Then it collapsed. Well, you saw it. There was hardly anything left. And then you came along, and kept asking me where the Wraith was. I still can't believe how long it took you to understand. And then it seemed to start all over again, the cold, I mean. But this time I couldn't breathe, and I was choking…and then I felt better and _you_ were sick or something…"

"Or something," Sheppard agreed.

"In your case, Major, 'or something' doesn't seem to be anything serious." Beckett spoke from the doorway of his office.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you that eavesdropping is rude? How long have you been standing there?" Rodney demanded.

"Long enough," Carson replied cryptically, walking over to join them. "How are you feeling, Major?"

Sheppard rolled onto his back, put his hands behind his head and favored the physician with a lazy smile. "Okay. A little tired. Nothing a good night's sleep won't cure. Hopefully in my own quarters?"

"Ford and Teyla should be here soon with dinner. You can have a nice little picnic here in the infirmary, and if you eat everything on your plate I'll release you."

Sheppard nodded solemnly, then rolled his eyes as soon as Carson turned to Rodney, who concealed his laugh with a manufactured cough.

"Rodney " the Scotsman's face was suddenly serious, " – to tell you the truth, I have no idea why you aren't dead or dying. From what little we know of the Wraith, you should be." As he spoke, he performed a brief examination on the scientist.

"And you wonder," Rodney said with dripping sarcasm, "why I call medicine 'modern voodoo'. If I _should_ be dead, perhaps we could go find another Wraith to finish the job properly? Really, Carson, if you don't mind, I'd prefer to keep living."

Beckett heaved a sigh. "As far as I can tell, there's nothing particularly wrong with you. Your blood pressure and temperature are slightly elevated, but after the day you've had that isn't unexpected. Your blood sugar is back to normal – " he made a sound of pure frustration, " –everything's within normal limits. You're healthy as a horse."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Sheppard said dryly.

Rodney snorted. "If only I could get you to pay this much attention to me when I actually feel sick."

"There's so much we don't know about the Wraith, Rodney," Carson looked miserable, "I have no idea what it could have done to you or what to do if you get sick."

John half-expected to hear the 'Three-Hour Tour', Rodney's traditional doom-and-gloom speech; tried and true and tested, and oddly reassuring, because John knew that a sharp 'McKay!' would snap him out of it and he'd get down to business. And once Rodney shut his mouth and put his brain in gear, he could be relied on to pull a rabbit out of his ass and save the day.

That particular image short-circuited his current train of thought and he laughed out loud before he could stop himself. Carson and Rodney both stared at him in surprise, then shared a look that would have offended him on a normal day. Not that they ever _had_ normal days on Atlantis.

"So can I go back to work now?" Rodney asked calmly. "Kavanagh and Simpson are sure to get into a screaming match if they're left unsupervised for too long. I feel fine."

Beckett, who was also expecting a McKay rant, was caught off guard. Flustered, he answered, "Yes," then as Rodney grinned in triumph and hopped off the bed, "tomorrow."

The Canadian subsided with a roll of his eyes and Sheppard realized the lack of rant was just a new tactic to get what he wanted, but Rodney didn't argue as Carson continued, "I'll draw some blood now, and later I'd like to take a few tissue samples – a cheek swab and a scraping from the wound the Wraith made. Stay here overnight and I'll release you in the morning, barring further complications, as long as you return for check-ups twice a day. And promise to come to me right away if you feel at all strange or unwell."

"Doctor McKay feels strange and unwell most of the time, to hear him talk," Ford's tone was light and humorous as he entered the infirmary laden with a tray of food, followed by Teyla bearing a second tray, Rodney's laptop tucked under her arm.

"Hanging around with all you military types is enough to make anyone feel odd. Carrying a gun lowers the average man's IQ by 50 points." Rodney's eyes lit up, though Sheppard wasn't sure if it was the food or the laptop that excited him. Carson took advantage of his distraction to insert a needle in his arm to draw blood.

"_You_ carry a gun," Ford pointed out reasonably.

"I'm not average," was the simple and truthful reply.

"Doctor Beckett," Teyla smoothly cut off Ford's reply, "will you join us for the evening meal? There is plenty for all."

"No, thank you, m'dear." He efficiently withdrew the needle from Rodney's vein and taped a bit of gauze over the puncture site. "I promised to meet Elizabeth and let her know how my two least favorite patients are doing. I'm hoping to persuade her to break for dinner with me. I swear, if I could just get her and Major Sheppard here to eat properly, half my worries would be gone."

Teyla had to smile at Rodney as he looked from the laptop to the food, clearly unable to decide which he wanted first. Carson solved his quandary by taking the laptop and setting it on a shelf near the end of his bed.

"Don't let him have that until he's eaten, love," the doctor instructed Teyla. He grinned in answer to Rodney's scowl and left.

Ford passed the plates around and perched on the end of John's bed, so Teyla seated herself on Rodney's bed and began to eat. A moment later, she noticed the two soldiers staring at the scientist beside her.

Rodney was shoveling the food into his mouth as fast as he could chew and swallow it. The sight was both disgusting and fascinating, and she made herself look away.

"Slow down, Rodney, you'll choke!" John exclaimed, but Rodney took no notice of him.

"Teyla, hand me my laptop," Rodney asked as soon as he'd finished the last bite. She was amused when John cleared his throat and directed a pointed look at the Canadian, who flushed and ungraciously added, "please."

She took his plate and handed over the device. He was instantly engrossed by the machine and ignored them from that point on. At first, she remained seated on the end of his bed as she engaged in conversation with John and Ford, but as the evening wore on she became more and more uncomfortable, although she was unable to ascertain the cause. When she moved to a chair on the other side of John's bed so they could play a card game, the feeling eased, and she dismissed it from her mind.

Rodney didn't even notice when Carson returned and shooed Teyla and Ford away. To his surprise, when he took the laptop away from Rodney an hour later, the scientist didn't fuss. He sat quietly through the cheek swab, looked away when the doctor carefully scraped some skin from the half-healed Wraith wound, and lay down to sleep without any objections.

"Alright, Rodney, what's the matter? You're never this quiet." Beckett tried to keep his tone light, but failed miserably.

The frown on his friend's face was so familiar Carson's worries nearly disappeared.

"Nothing's wrong. I'm tired, okay? It was a long day. Near-miss Wraith victim, here. I'm amazed the shock alone didn't kill me."

Carson just smiled and told him goodnight before moving over to Sheppard. After a brief examination, he released the major from the infirmary and said goodnight.

"Rodney – " John started while he changed from hospital scrubs into his own off-duty clothes, a serious look on his face, "I'm not sure I've ever really talked to you about this, and it's as much my fault as yours. I didn't even notice you weren't with us back there. But when we're off-world, you can't just go wandering off on your own. If you want to check something out, let me know." He ran hand wearily through his hair, making it stick up in all directions. "When I spotted the Wraith, and then realized that you weren't with us…jeez, Rodney, I thought my heart was going to stop." Rodney was on the verge of saying something rude and defensive, but that statement stopped him in his tracks. Taking notice, John continued, "I figure we both learned our lesson today, and I won't bring up the subject again. Okay?"

Rodney changed tacks with lightning speed and waved a hand dismissively. "Yes, yes, fault on both sides, no wandering off alone, no need to say any more. Now get out of here so I can get some sleep."

John grinned and left, leaving the scientist to his rest.

TBC...


	4. Part Four

Part Four

The briefing had gone well enough. Detailing the events of his encounter with the Wraith for Elizabeth and Carson had been easier than he'd expected, and he thought it might be due to telling Sheppard about it first. Sergeant Stackhouse and his team had returned to Pataskala and retrieved the corpse of the Wraith. They had searched for a Dart, but found nothing and concluded that it had either intended to leave via the Stargate or would have been picked up by another Wraith.

Carson had examined him, found nothing wrong, and released Rodney to light duty, allowing him to return to his lab. But somehow he couldn't seem to concentrate on his work, due in large part to the incessant chit-chat that his colleagues indulged in.

God, couldn't they just shut up? Rodney's head was pounding, the lights were painfully bright, and the strange wound on his chest itched and burned.

His dreams last night had been strange and disturbing, full of Wraith feeding on his friends and colleagues, and he was among them, draining the life from humans and Wraith alike. His sleep hadn't been restful, but he'd managed to convince Carson that he felt well enough to return to his normal duties. He _wanted_ to work, wanted to be distracted from the images in his mind.

They just kept yammering on and on! He couldn't quite make out what they were talking about, and frankly he didn't care; he just wanted them to stop. It seemed like he could hear every tiny sound in the lab: the hiss of the ventilation system, the buzz of the lights, the creaking of chairs and floor as the other scientists moved around. Before, the city had always seemed almost unnaturally quiet, but now he swore he could hear the entire structure shifting, every sound magnified a thousand times until he could even hear the gentle plash of the ocean against the outer walls.

But the voices were the worst. It seemed like every word spoken lanced directly into his brain right behind his eye socket. He picked up an energy storage crystal to examine and grimaced: the smooth surface felt slick and unpleasant under his abnormally sensitive fingertips and the continually murmuring voices behind him made the crystal vibrate in a way that made his teeth ache.

He closed his fist around the crystal in an attempt to dampen the vibrations, but it only served to bring more of his skin in contact with it, and he shivered with revulsion even though the room felt too warm.

Suddenly his ears were assaulted by a loud, sharp _crack_, and he surged to his feet.

"Shut up! All of you, shut up! How can anyone get any work done if you're all running off at the mouth all the time!"

They all stared at him, but instead of looking embarrassed or guilty, they seemed surprised and alarmed.

"_Boze_, Rodney!" Zelenka exclaimed and started toward him. "Your hand!"

Puzzled, Rodney looked at his hands. The crystal was in shards, several large pieces embedded in his palm. Blood dripped thickly from deep cuts he still couldn't feel.

He stared at it bemusedly. The blood really was quite an attractive shade of bright red, and the way it slid over the clear splinters of crystal was beautiful. He heard Zelenka calling the infirmary to report an accident as he grasped one of the shards to pull it out.

"_Ne_!", the Czech exclaimed, grabbing Rodney's wrist. The touch was like sandpaper and he pulled away with a hiss of discomfort. "Sit down, Rodney, please?"

He obeyed, feeling a little dizzy, though his headache was receding behind a growing fascination with the crimson splatters on the floor.

"How did that happen?" he asked breathlessly.

Zelenka's frown deepened. "_You_ broke it."

"I can't have. It would take a pressure of almost 400 pounds per square inch to shatter it like that."

The smaller man shrugged. "It must have had a stress fracture. It's not important. Just don't touch it until Doctor Beckett gets here, please?"

Carson arrived within minutes, grumbling. "Can't you keep out of trouble for just twenty-four hours, Rodney? Between you and Major Sheppard, I'd be a rich man if I charged for my services." He shook his head over Rodney's hand and asked, "D'you think you can walk down to the infirmary? I think you're going to need a few stitches, and I want to irrigate those cuts to flush out any splinters."

Rodney sighed, feeling chilled and tired, and hauled himself to his feet, staggering a little as the room tilted around him. Beckett and Zelenka grabbed him.

"Would you give us a hand taking him to the infirmary, Radek? It'd be faster than getting one of my nurses up here…"

The Czech shrugged and said, "Anything to get him out of here. He's been in a foul mood all morning."

"I have not," Rodney denied automatically as they guided him out the door.

Zelenka gave him a sidelong look of irritation. "You yell at everyone to shut up when no one is talking. I think that qualifies."

"You were," he insisted, shaking off their hands. "Everybody was talking nonstop all morning. I couldn't think with all that noise." The injury to his hand was finally making itself known to him with sharp, stabbing pains that shot up his arm with every step. He kept his eyes on the ground in front of him because of the dizziness he still felt, but soon noticed that his hand was still dripping blood, and he glanced back over his shoulder to see a trail of red spatters behind them. He stumbled, and Zelenka caught his arm with a muttered curse.

The hand on his bicep, left bare by Rodney's short-sleeved shirt, felt warm and strong, and he reached across himself with his undamaged hand to grasp the Czech scientist's wrist without thinking about it.

He felt better immediately, and closed his eyes to enjoy the sensation. He didn't hear Zelenka's weak cry, or Carson shouting at him, or the muted _plink_ of the bloody crystal shards hitting the floor as they worked themselves out of his flesh.

A shove sent him lurching into the wall and broke his grip on Zelenka, who fell to his knees in the middle of the corridor. He stared at Rodney, wide-eyed and frightened, babbling unintelligibly in a mixture of Czech and English, clutching his wrist.

"Rodney, your hand," Carson said in a choked voice. He followed the doctor's gaze and saw that the shards had all come out of his palm. The deep cuts were now nothing more than thin red lines. He wiped the blood away and found that the skin was a little tender but unbroken.

Zelenka tried to get to his feet but was too weak to stand. He looked exhausted – exactly like Sheppard had looked back on Pataskala, like Teyla had looked in the infirmary yesterday evening. Rodney, on the other hand, felt better than he had all day.

He met Beckett's blue eyes, shining with fear and fascination. "Carson, what's wrong with me?"

The physician reached for him, "I don't know, Rodney, but I'll figure it out."

Rodney jerked back, "No! Don't touch me! I don't want to hurt you, too!"

"Come on, then. We need to get you and Radek to the infirmary so we can figure out what's happening." Rodney backed away, and Carson continued, "Come on, don't make this harder than it has to be. I won't touch you, I promise."

He stopped and waited while Beckett helped Zelenka to his feet, then preceded them down the corridor. At the door of the infirmary, he hesitated, and felt Carson's hand on his shoulder. Even through the fabric of his shirt, the hand was pleasantly warm, and he couldn't help but put his own hand up to touch it. A moment later, he heard Carson stumble and fall to the floor, taking Zelenka down with him.

Turning, he found the doctor gazing up at him with horror and pity. "Heavenly days, Rodney, what's happening to you?" the Scotsman breathed.

The pity was more than he could bear, and Rodney slipped past the weakened men and ran, taking turns blindly, instinct guiding him through the city.


	5. Part Five

A/N: Thank you so much, everyone, for all the lovely reviews!

* * *

Part Five

Rodney made it to the top of the Northwest Tower without encountering anyone. He had no illusions that he would be alone for long Grodin was too good at manipulating the internal sensors of the city for Rodney's whereabouts to remain unknown. But it would take a little while for Elizabeth to get a search party organized, and longer to figure out which life sign was his, so he would have a little time. He just needed a few moments alone to think. It was when he didn't have time to stop and think things through that he made mistakes.

So he stood on the uppermost balcony of the tower, tasting the salt on the ocean breeze, and tried to look at the events of the last two days logically.

Only he had to admit that the events of the last two days seemed to defy logic. It took him less than ten seconds to figure that out. And without more information, there were only a few conclusions he could come to.

First, whenever he felt sick and came into physical contact with someone, he felt better and they seemed to become weakened; second, since this had started right after his encounter with the Wraith on Pataskala, and taking into account their way of feeding, this _had_ to be connected to the Wraith. So he should avoid touching anyone. In fact, perhaps it would be best if he left Atlantis altogether. Especially if, and this was the thing he desperately didn't want to contemplate, he was somehow turning into a Wraith.

But that was a premature conclusion. He needed more information. Carson had already admitted how little they knew about the Wraith. The only other source was the Wraith themselves.

No, he thought, that wasn't quite true. The Ancients undoubtedly knew quite a bit about the Wraith. It would take far too long to try and find the relevant information in Atlantis' databases, they were still figuring out how to work them, and translating what they found was a slow, inexact process. The best source would be a live Ancient, and he knew exactly where to find one of those. There was no guarantee she would help, even if she could, but he was asking for information, not direct aid against the Wraith.

It galled him to think of asking _her_ for any kind of help at all, but when it came to his health and his friends safety – he was determined to put aside his pride and animosity.

Mind made up, Rodney stepped away from the railing and headed for the transporter that had brought him to the top of the tower. He was about to direct it to the Command Center, intending to put his idea to Elizabeth, when he was gripped with an intense feeling of hunger, stomach painfully empty. His first thought was to stop by the mess hall for an MRE, but oddly that didn't appeal. What he really wanted what he craved was to go see Elizabeth right away; to take her hand and…

His train of thought stuttered to a halt as he realized exactly what he was contemplating, and he felt a wave of self-disgust that almost swamped the strange craving.

He changed his mind and chose a transporter destination near one of the naquadah generator's instead. There was a secondary link to Atlantis' systems there from which he could program the city to feed false data to the Command Center. The personnel there would believe that a faulty conduit was about to fill the Gateroom and Puddle Jumper Bay with poisonous gases. They would evacuate, and he could slip in and go through the Stargate before they could stop him.

* * *

He had to take a Puddle Jumper to get to his destination. He hated taking it – it wasn't stealing, he promised himself, he intended to leave it somewhere for Sheppard to find. Before he could think better of his decision, he was at the controls of a ship and through the Stargate. He piloted the Jumper down to the planet, setting down with only a few bumps outside a large temple-like structure. He absently noted how much better his piloting skills were when he was preoccupied, and thought about telling Sheppard.

The major would follow him, of that Rodney was sure, but it wasn't important. If Chaya couldn't or wouldn't help him, he'd willingly go back to Atlantis as long as they promised to lock him up so he couldn't hurt anyone. For all his voiced distrust of medical science, Rodney knew Carson was a brilliant doctor. If the Scotsman couldn't find a cure for his friend, he might at least be able to learn something that could help others. More importantly, he wouldn't let Rodney suffer.

He just hoped it wouldn't come to that.

The open-air temple seemed to be deserted, but he refused to be deterred. "Chaya!" he shouted. "I need to speak to you."

The only reply was a solitary chirping bird.

He swallowed his pride. He would probably have to beg for her help anyways, why not start right away? "Please!"

She came around a corner, and he wondered how it was possible for someone to look sad, angry, and gorgeous all at the same time. He clamped down hard on his instinctive mistrust this would be so much easier if she didn't look like a supermodel.

"Doctor McKay, you should not have returned. There is nothing I can do for you "

"Please, just listen to me. Something's happening to me, and you're the only person I can think of who might be able to help. There was "

The sorrow disappeared, and the anger that twisted her face made her momentarily ugly. "I cannot help you!" she told him, and turned away. Rodney lunged forward and caught her arm, and a surge of power washed over him. He drank it in effortlessly, strength filling him, making him feel like he could run for days without tiring, climb mountains…even fly.

Suddenly he was tossed away, and hit the stone wall with a thud that knocked the breath out of him. He slid to the ground, aching to draw air into his shocked lungs. Chaya stood over him, shaking with rage. The revulsion in her gaze made him flinch and try to move away, but his limbs wouldn't obey him.

"What are you?" she hissed.

His lungs unlocked and he gulped in air. "I don't know," he panted, hating the tremor of fear in his voice. "I don't know what's happening to me, that's why I came to you. I thought you might know. There was a Wraith, it tried to to feed on me. Something went wrong, I think I drained it instead, and now I can't touch anyone, or I suck the energy from them. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do it to you. I can't control it." He was babbling now, and he forced himself to stop with difficulty. "Please, if you can't help me, can you stop me? I'm afraid I'm going to really hurt someone…"

Her face softened. "I do not think there is anything I can do for you, Doctor McKay. But I will try to find the cause of your affliction. And if you truly wish it, I will stop you."

She dissolved into a flare of light and hovered over him, glowing tentacles outstretched. Rodney shrank away in surprise, but Chaya's voice commanded him to be still, so he closed his eyes. The strange feathery touch seemed to just miss his actual physical body. It wasn't so bad at first, but then she probed deeper. He could see the glow through his eyelids and feel it on his skin – and _under_ his skin. Even though it wasn't exactly against his will, he felt violated by the sense of her inside him, a touch that was somehow more intimate than sex but nowhere near as familiar or enjoyable. As she settled into him, he dimly felt himself shiver, felt her gently force his body to relax, and realized that she was trying to be kind. And that just made her possession of him worse, because he could tell that she looked on him as a lesser being.

It suddenly occurred to him that this must be kind of what it was like to be taken over by a Goa'uld: a passenger inside his own skin with someone else at the wheel. The thought made him panic, trying vainly to push her out, but Chaya was so much stronger than him it was like trying to move a mountain. Her mind pinned his like an insect on display and she demanded, "What is _this_?"

She showed him the image of some kind of twisted thread. One part of it was a coarse, inferior type of strand that looked as if it had been clumsily tied on. It was covered with tiny buzzing particles that were absorbed by the thread, slowly altering the substance of it.

His confusion must have been evident, because before he could even figure out how to respond, she plunged into his memories, shuffling quickly through them with careless disregard for their content until she found what she was looking for.

Once again, Carson explained the deactivated mouse retrovirus that would give him the ATA gene, joked about the FDA, slipped the needle into his arm…

Rodney could feel Chaya's quiet satisfaction leaking through her effortless and implacable grip on him.

"I cannot help you, Doctor McKay," she told him, "but I think you can help me."

A moment later she ruthlessly stripped the memory of their meeting from his mind and replaced it with a different set of memories.


	6. Part Six

Part Six

"I know Rodney. He's trying to protect us, that's why he left. I'm going after him. The only question is, will you help me or try to stop me?" Sheppard's glare took in everyone at the table: Elizabeth, Ford, Teyla, Beckett, and Sergeant Bates.

The sergeant's jaw stuck out pugnaciously. "It's my job to point out that Doctor McKay may be a security risk, sir. We don't know how he's been affected by whatever is happening to him."

"Well, let's find out what's happening to him _before_ we condemn him." John shot back.

"Gentlemen!" Elizabeth interrupted them. "Doctor Beckett believes he's found the cause of Rodney's affliction. I'd like to know more about it before I make any decisions concerning him."

Carson cleared his throat nervously. "As you all know, when the Wraith feed, they introduce a chemical substance into their victims that seems to be a necessary part of the feeding process. We haven't been able to identify precisely what that substance is, or how it works. The Hoffans discovered that certain rare individuals carry an extra protein in their genetic makeup that neutralizes the chemical, making it impossible for the Wraith to feed on them. At first I thought Rodney might have that protein, but he doesn't." Carson sighed deeply. "What he _does_ have is an artificial ATA gene, which is slightly different from the naturally occurring gene. It was the only thing I could think of that made Rodney significantly different from the other victims of the Wraith I've been able to examine."

John knew he meant Gall and Abrams. People were still careful not to mention their names around Rodney and himself.

"When I introduced the chemical from the Wraith into a cell containing human DNA with the artificial ATA gene, it triggered a mutation. Every cell in Rodney's body is being changed at the genetic level. That's why he felt sick this morning. His body is reacting to the change taking place inside him. When he touched Doctor Zelenka, I think he actually fed on him almost like a Wraith. Not enough to age him, just weaken him. He did the same to me, and I felt drained of energy. Radek is suffering from exhaustion and anemia, just like Major Sheppard was after returning from Pataskala. It didn't seem to affect me as much, but he only touched me for a second."

John's eyes widened. "I was trying to feel Rodney's pulse. He put his hand over mine and suddenly I couldn't even stand up, I was so tired."

Carson nodded. "I think draining energy from others gives him a temporary boost that allows his body a chance to adjust."

"So what's going to happen to Doctor McKay? I mean, is he going to turn into a Wraith?" Ford voiced the question Sheppard couldn't bring himself to ask.

Beckett looked down at his tightly clasped hands where they lay on the table. "To tell the truth, son, I just don't know. I mean, the research into genetic mutations and manipulation is still in its infancy back on Earth. It's entirely possible that it could kill him."

"Which makes it that much more important that we find him and bring him back," Sheppard said forcefully.

"Is there anything you can do to cure him, Carson?" Elizabeth asked, looking like she was dreading the answer.

Sheppard finally realized how worried she actually was, despite her façade of calm. Looking around the table, he saw similar expressions of concern on everyone's faces, including Bates.

"I have a few ideas, but…"the doctor began. "We're stumbling around in the dark, here. And without Rodney himself, I have no way of knowing how his condition is progressing."

"Rodney would say 'let me know when you find the light switch'," John couldn't help but comment. Carson looked stricken, and he regretted the remark.

Elizabeth was silent for a long minute, but finally looked up and told Sheppard, "Go bring back our wayward scientist, Major."

"Proculis! That's the last place Doctor McKay would go!"

The look Grodin directed at Ford had 'long-suffering' written all over it. "Nevertheless, that is the last address dialed on the Stargate. Perhaps, when he reached the other side, he immediately dialed another destination, thinking to prevent us from following him."

Sheppard latched eagerly onto this idea. "Can we tell what address the Proculis Stargate last dialed?"

"Possibly," Grodin answered. "We think there's a feature on the Jumpers that will allow the pilot to redial the most recent address. If you concentrate, you should be able to activate it."

"Star 69 for Stargates," Ford muttered, meriting identical looks of half-amused disgust from both men.

"Okay," Sheppard said slowly. "Ford, Teyla, get your gear and meet me in the Jumper Bay. I'll get Beckett, and we'll need Markham to pilot the other Jumper when we catch up with Rodney. First stop, Proculis."

On his way out of the Command Center, he was stopped by Sergeant Bates.

"I wanted to wish you luck finding Doctor McKay, sir. I hope you're right, he left to protect us, and if that's the case, he has my respect and my loyalty. But you understand, as head of security I have to be suspicious of his behavior."

John was both surprised and touched, and shook Bates' hand firmly. "You're doing your job, Sergeant, and I do appreciate that."

Atlantis was destroyed. Everyone who had come through the Stargate from Earth was dead: his colleagues, his teammates, his friends.

Rodney had known this possibility existed, even before they met the Wraith, but he'd always expected to die with them. Not in his worst nightmares had he contemplated being the sole survivor, light years from home and completely alone. Even the Athosians on the mainland were gone. The Wraith had culled them, down to the last child.

And now Rodney sped toward the Wraith hiveship that had decimated Atlantis and killed his friends. The events were hazy in his mind; he wasn't entirely sure how he had gotten away, or when a dying Carson had injected him with a syringe full of a hazy liquid. But Carson's last words were vivid in his mind.

"The Wraith will not be able to feed on you now, but you will be able to drain the life from them. Go forth and avenge us."

It briefly occurred to him to wonder what had happened to Carson's accent, and why the doctor had kept this substance to himself, but the thought was gone as quickly as it had come. All that mattered was vengeance.

He intended to cloak the Puddle Jumper and try to sneak on board the hiveship. The Wraith would undoubtedly overwhelm him by sheer force of numbers before long, but he was resolved to take out as many of them as he could. If he moved fast enough, he might be able to sabotage the ship and destroy it before they stopped him.


	7. Part Seven

Part Seven

When Sheppard showed up in the Jumper Bay with Beckett and Markham in tow, he found Ford and Teyla ready and waiting.

As soon as Elizabeth gave him the go-ahead, they sped through the Stargate. On the other side, Sheppard brought the ship around in a tight turn to face the 'Gate and was easily able to activate the 'Star 69' function. He watched the DHD panel on the Jumper console light up.

"This address looks familiar. Teyla?"

The Athosian leaned forward between the front seats to look. "It should be familiar, Major. That is the address for Pataskala."

"That," John said, "makes a lot more sense than Proculis." He maneuvered the ship through the Stargate, then made another tight turn over the fields of Pataskala and once again 'Star 69'ed the 'Gate.

As the DHD lit up, John began to frown. "Atlantis?" he muttered, and as soon as the wormhole was established, he radioed the Ancient city.

"Atlantis, this is Sheppard. Did McKay come back?"

"No, Major, he didn't. Where are you?" They heard Elizabeth's startled voice.

"The Proculis Stargate led us to Pataskala. Rodney must be somewhere in the vicinity. We're going to scout out the area. Sheppard out."

John sat there, eyes closed, after the radio link was broken. Ford heard him whisper, "What would McKay do?"

When he opened his eyes a few seconds later, Sheppard didn't look like he'd come up with an answer, but he said decisively, "Let's go check out the village first."

They flew over the village and several miles of farmland around it, but there was no sign of the other Puddle Jumper or any life at all.

"The Wraith took them all," Carson commented sadly.

"Any ideas, Beckett?" John sounded dispirited.

Shaking his head, the Scotsman replied, "This is Rodney we're talking about. The only thing we can be sure he didn't do is go after the Wraith."

The Jumper came to an abrupt halt and Ford instinctively braced himself against the console even though the inertial dampeners kept him in his seat. He watched Sheppard swivel around to face Beckett, eyes wide and startled.

"What did you say?" His voice was unusually soft.

The doctor flustered, turned red in the face and said, "Uh – he – he wouldn't go after the Wraith?"

"Not normally, no, but now? After what happened to the one he met here?" His elation quickly turned to horror. "Oh my god, he _has_gone after the Wraith. That idiot! He always gets brave at the wrong time."

Sheppard spun around to face the console and took them up out of the atmosphere. A map materialized in front of his face, showing a small pulsating blip heading towards a large spiky blip that was surrounded by little arrow-shaped blips.

"I didn't know we could do that!" Markham exclaimed.

"Neither did I," his CO muttered. "The little blinking one is the other Puddle Jumper. The big one…" he swallowed audibly, "…the big one is a Wraith hiveship."

In the silence that followed that statement, John made up his mind. "Look, I'll take you back to Atlantis. We can't catch up with McKay before he reaches the hiveship. Anyone who goes after him may not make it back. I can't order you to come with me."

A chorus of protests answered him, and he couldn't help but grin.

"Okay, then. Let's go get our resident genius." He set a course to intercept them and pushed the little craft to its top speed.

"How long will it take us to catch up?" Carson asked.

"The hiveship is moving pretty slowly…about eight hours. But Rodney has a head start on us by about two hours."

"If he attacks the hiveship, he will not survive," Teyla said quietly.

"I think he plans to sneak on board and try to take them individually. What I don't understand is why he's doing it. Even if he can drain the Wraith and kill them, there's just too many of them. They'll find a way to take him down without letting him touch them. It's like he's on a – " John's voice failed him for a moment, " – a suicide mission. I don't know, maybe he's afraid he'll turn on us."

Beckett added, "There's no way to tell how his mind has been affected by the changes happening to him. He may not be the man we know anymore."

"Wait a minute, you said all he had to do was touch you to drain your energy. So how are we going to take him back to Atlantis if he doesn't want to go?" Aiden wondered.

Carson opened his pack, pulled out a package of latex gloves, and handed everyone a pair. "When I put my hand on his shoulder, touching his shirt, I was fine. It wasn't until he touched my hand and we made skin to skin contact that I collapsed. It doesn't happen all the time, either. I'd held his arm to keep him from falling over only a few minutes before, and nothing happened. I'd prefer not to take chances, though, so I suggest you try to avoid touching him. I hope it won't be necessary, but we might need to restrain him."

* * *

The sight of the huge hiveship, surrounded by a cloud of Darts, would have been terrifying and awe-inspiring if Rodney hadn't been mired in a seething quagmire of grief and rage. His earlier cold resolve had been eroded by the hours of traveling to catch up to the Wraith, who seemed to be taking their time getting to their next feeding ground.

He felt dizzy and sick and oddly _hungry_, but ignored the sensation fiercely, maneuvering the cloaked Puddle Jumper through the surrounding Darts and into the open docking bay. Once the engines were shut down, he sat there with his face in his hands for a moment. It took all his resolve to stand up, wipe suspiciously damp eyes, and leave the relative safety and comfort of the Jumper for the cold, dark corridors of the hiveship.

* * *

As they watched, the little blip seemed to merge with the large blip.

Carson paled. "Is he – "

"It's okay, I think he docked with the hiveship," Sheppard replied. "He must be cloaked, they don't seem to have noticed him."

Teyla's voice was calm and resolved. "How long until we reach them?"

"Two hours now."


	8. Part Eight

Part Eight

Sheppard set the Puddle Jumper down carefully. It was disconcerting to look out into the docking bay of the hiveship and see an empty space when the Jumper's display screen clearly showed the presence of the other Jumper.

"Ford, Teyla, you're with me," he ordered, clipping his P-90 to his vest. "Beckett, Markham, I want you to stay here."

Carson opened his mouth to argue but John cut him off. "You can't help Rodney if the Wraith catch you. We'll find him and bring him back." He turned to the young soldier, "Check over the other Jumper, Markham. We'll probably need to leave in a hurry, and I want it ready to go. If anything happens to us, I want you and Beckett to take the Jumpers back to Atlantis, and tell Weir not to try another rescue."

Turning to Ford and Teyla, he flicked the safety off his weapon. "Let's go find Rodney," he said grimly.

* * *

The first Wraith he'd come across was one of the big, muscled fellows with the mask that reminded Rodney of the guy in the hockey mask in one of those interminable series of horror flicks. It had been so startled to find a human simply strolling through the hiveship that Rodney had been able to just walk right up and grab its arm. The experience wasn't quite as excruciatingly painful as the first time, but still left him shaking and gasping for breath. The energy he'd drawn from the Wraith wasn't warm and comforting like Zelenka's or Carson's. It was horribly cold, permeating his bones with a core of ice.

The second Wraith snarled when it saw him and lunged at him. He caught its hand and was surprised that draining it was easier, less painful, though no less unpleasant. The corpse was intact this time, a mummified husk. Through the increasing fog in his mind, Rodney wondered briefly if perhaps it was sturdier than the Wraith on Pataskala, or older. Or maybe it was something he himself had done differently.

He abruptly pushed the thought to the back of his mind. The Wraith was dead, that was the important thing, and it was time for Rodney to continue his task.

Four Wraith corpses later, he was beyond cold or sick. A brittle calm had settled over him, allowing his mind to drift peacefully without thought or memory. The process was still physically painful, but was beginning to get lost in the influx of energy that buzzed in his muscles and whispered in his ears.

When he bumped into two Wraith at once, he let one grab him while the other placed its feeding hand on his chest. He drained both of them at once and nearly passed out from the overwhelming rush of power. He grabbed the next Wraith he encountered and tossed it down the corridor with a hideous ease fueled by a Wraith-augmented adrenaline rush.

The dawning look of fear on its face as Rodney advanced spawned a fiery worm of bitter satisfaction in him, and for the first time he allowed himself to enjoy the life he pulled from it, watching its death eagerly.

When he was done he went in search of more prey.

* * *

Sheppard sped silently through the winding halls of the hiveship, Ford and Teyla close behind. There didn't seem to be many Wraith on board, and he guessed that most of its occupants were in the cloud of Darts that accompanied the huge ship.

The life signs detector helped them avoid those Wraith who remained on the hiveship, but couldn't tell them which little dot on the screen was Rodney.

Before long, they were trying to dodge groups of Wraith who were clearly searching for something – in all likelihood, Rodney McKay. When they came across the first corpse, sprawled against the wall and falling into dust, John felt his stomach tighten with anxiety. He was beginning almost to dread finding his friend. Just the fact that Rodney had boarded the hiveship indicated that the scientist's usually extremely healthy sense of self-preservation had been entirely subsumed by some other, stronger urge. Whatever that urge was, it couldn't be pleasant, especially since it now seemed that Rodney was a one-man Wraith-killing machine.

He glanced at the LSD again and swore softly. They were caught between two advancing parties of Wraith, with no way to dodge or hide from them that he could see. He signaled quickly to Ford and Teyla: three in front, four behind.

The chatter of their P-90's broke the eerie silence of the hiveship and momentarily took down the smaller group, giving Sheppard's team the opportunity to slip around them, only to run into two more masked Wraith. Ford managed to get a few blows in before he was flung against a wall. The newcomers had stunners, which proved difficult to use as anything but clubs in close quarters. They were effective enough when a Wraith swung the weapon at Ford's head as he tried to stand. The lieutenant went down without a sound.

Whirling and dodging with incredible swiftness, Teyla lasted a little longer. She thrust her gun into the face of the Wraith attacking her and pulled the trigger. Its head burst apart from the force of the bullets, but its body continued to move, causing the Athosian to stumble back into the waiting arms of another Wraith.

Sheppard found himself held at arms length by a tall Wraith, his feet dangling inches off the floor. His P-90 was out of ammo, so he pulled his Beretta out of the thigh holster and emptied it into the Wraith's chest. It staggered back, but didn't let go. He met its malevolent stare, trying not to flinch as it raised its other hand to his chest.

It dropped him without warning. He landed awkwardly and lost his balance, ending up sprawled on the floor staring up at the Wraith as it seemed to collapse in on itself. It fell towards him and he scrambled out of the way.

Behind it stood his truant scientist, gazing hollow-eyed down at him.

"You're dead," his voice was brittle as glass as his eyes wandered to Teyla and Ford, "you're all dead."

A Wraith moved toward him. Rodney let it grab him and pressed a hand almost gently to its face. A moment later all that was left was a desiccated mummy.

"I think the younger ones disintegrate faster," he told John conversationally. "Although it's hard to tell how old a Wraith is. I'm just speculating here."

Two more Wraith went down under Rodney's hands. They were masked and hugely muscled, but their blows were completely ineffective on him. The bodies were no more than dust and limp clothing.

The Wraith holding Teyla threw her at the scientist. He stepped aside making no effort to catch her, and before Sheppard could move to her side the Wraith had been reduced to a dry corpse.

"See? It stands to reason that the muscle – the drones – are probably younger. Maybe their molecular structure is less stable. Remember how hard it was to kill that ten-thousand-year-old Wraith? The one that got Abrams and…" His voice trailed off. The pale, expressionless face, dominated by blazing eyes, seemed to really see John for the first time.

"I guess I've really lost it now. I don't think Wraith illusions are quite this detailed. That's okay, though. I wouldn't mind a little company, even if it's imaginary. This place is pretty creepy."

Another Wraith went down under McKay's gentle fingers.

"Rodney,' John whispered, horrified, then found his voice. "Rodney, we're not dead."

"Yes, you are. You're dead. Everyone is dead. Except me." There were only three Wraith left. One backhanded Rodney across the face, but he didn't seem to feel it. He grabbed it by the throat and it disintegrated while he reached out for another one. It dodged his grasp and John was treated to the sight of two panic-stricken Wraith high-tailing it down the corridor to escape the avenging Canadian who was cutting a swathe through their ranks.

Rodney dropped the husk in his hand and turned back to Sheppard with a sad, lopsided smile.

"I'm invulnerable," he told John.


	9. Part Nine

Part Nine

"I'm invulnerable," Rodney told the hallucination of Major Sheppard. He was hoping to see the familiar grin of his mischievous co-conspirator, but the pilot continued to look shocked and appalled. He didn't like seeing that expression on his friend's face, so he turned to look at Teyla and Ford instead.

The Athosian had picked herself up and knelt beside Ford, who was beginning to rouse.

"M'okay," he mumbled, waving her hands away. "Where's…" he trailed off, seeing the corpse dust and the mummified bodies that littered the corridor.

"Doctor McKay found us," Teyla told him, her voice shaking. Rodney frowned. Teyla's calm was already almost legendary on Atlantis – no, he corrected himself, _had been_ almost legendary – and it was strange to hear her sound so perturbed. "He saved our lives," she continued.

Well, that was an odd thing to say. How could he save their lives when they were already dead?

Teyla stood up and helped the groggy lieutenant to his feet, pulling his arm around her shoulders.

"Rodney, come home with us. Carson figured out what's wrong with you." John tried to make his voice as gentle and persuasive as he could. "Let him try to help you."

The scientist shook his head stubbornly. "Carson is dead too. Everyone on Atlantis is dead, and I'm hallucinating you. I'm only seeing you because I miss you – because I'm so alone, because I'm still alive and you aren't. Survivor's guilt, isn't that what it's called? I can't bring you back, but I can avenge you. Chaya said – no, _Carson_, Carson said to avenge everyone. So I am. I'm doing pretty good, they're so surprised they can't seem to get organized. And they can't hurt me. I took too many of them, and now I'm stronger than them."

His words seemed to hit Sheppard with an almost physical blow. "_Chaya_ said? Rodney, it isn't real. Whatever you think, it didn't happen. We're still alive. Chaya tricked you."

"Why do you always argue with me? You're a product of my disturbed imagination, you shouldn't be arguing with me." He felt irritated and aggrieved. Sheppard couldn't stop being his usual annoying self even in Rodney's mind. "I don't – I don't want to talk to you anymore." He scrubbed a weary hand over his face. "This is hard enough, John. Don't make it harder."

The cold, dull energy he pulled from the Wraith didn't seem to last long, and the more he took the faster it went. Rodney had lost count of how many Wraith he'd drained, but he was beginning to think he'd reached his limit. It became easier to drain them with each one he took, but the power wasn't filling him the way it had before, and he was starting to feel sick again. The little flame of vengeance Rodney had been carefully nursing had been abruptly snuffed out by the disturbing hallucination of his friends.

He turned away from the vision of Sheppard but was halted by a latex gloved hand on his arm that dragged him back to meet resolute hazel eyes.

"We're _real_, McKay. We're all alive. Chaya must have messed with your mind so you'd go after the Wraith." John sensed he was losing the scientist and spoke with greater intensity. "You have to fight it. Come on, Rodney…" He ground his teeth in frustration as the other man obstinately shook his head and tried to pull away.

"Rodney… " An idea struck him and John tore off his gloves and grabbed his friend's hands. "You're so cold -" he started, looking down at the hands clasped in his own, then broke off as his strength left him. He paled, but didn't let go.

Rodney couldn't help but pull in energy from the contact. The skin of the man before him was warm and dry and comforting, completely unlike the clammy, rubbery feel of Wraith skin. The energy warmed him, too, sweeping away the dead, ashy indifference of the Wraith. He closed his eyes and drank it in eagerly as it broke through the brittle shell of indifference he'd pulled around himself, then washed away the grief and anger underneath.

"Doctor McKay!" The voice called him back to his surroundings. "Doctor McKay, let him go!"

He opened his eyes to find the source of the intrusive voice, and found John Sheppard on the floor in front of him, gray-faced and wheezing and pulling weakly at Rodney's grasp on his hands. He snatched them away and stumbled back, looking around himself in surprise.

"What are you – how did you get here?" He spotted the other members of his team. "Ford? Teyla? You – I thought you were dead."

"We are not dead, Doctor McKay, but we may yet be if we don't leave here. You must help us back to the Puddle Jumpers." Teyla tried to speak calmly but wasn't sure how much longer she could manage it. "I can't carry both of them." Ford tried to straighten up and stand without her support but swayed alarmingly. "Please, Doctor McKay! Can you help the Major without draining him?"

Sheppard reached for his latex gloves and pulled them on slowly with fingers that trembled with weakness, then held out a hand to his wayward scientist. "Help me up, McKay."

Rodney could only look at the shaking hand and gape at the soldier. He didn't know what was going on. He remembered leaving Atlantis for Proculis to question Chaya, but he also remembered finding everyone in the city dead, drained by the Wraith; only a swiftly fading Carson left to inject him with some mysterious substance and beg him to go after those who had killed his friends.

John's hand fell as the exhausted man's remaining strength began to run out.

Suddenly, Teyla realized what part of the problem was. "You can touch him wherever his skin is covered, Doctor McKay. The gloves and clothes will protect him."

He looked down at John for confirmation and received a tired nod.

"Let's go home, okay, Rodney?"

The John Sheppard kneeling before him seemed far more real than the confused memories of his prematurely aged and wizened corpse on Atlantis. Occam's Razor, Rodney reminded himself. The simplest explanation was usually correct, and this reality, however strange, was still more likely than the other. Or perhaps it was just wishful thinking and insanity that made him want to believe that Sheppard was alive.

He made up his mind and grasped the offered hand, hauling his weakened friend to his feet. He pulled the major's arm across his shoulders and headed for the docking bay, followed by Teyla and a still-unsteady Ford.

"Your nose is bleeding," John said tiredly in Rodney's ear. He rummaged in his pocket with his free arm, coming up with a slightly grubby handkerchief.

"How did you find me?" Rodney asked as he accepted the cloth and blotted the slow trickle of blood pooling on his upper lip. They continued to converse in hushed tones.

"Sensors on the Puddle Jumper. Once we realized you hadn't gone on through the Proculis Stargate, we started looking around." He grimaced when Rodney offered the soiled handkerchief back. "For heaven's sake, Rodney, just keep it. My turn to ask a question. Why did you go to Chaya? I wouldn't have thought you'd want to go anywhere near her."

"Never again. But I figured, she's an Ancient, she has to know more about the Wraith than anyone else, right? Maybe she'd know what was happening to me. She didn't. She changed my memory – made me think you were all dead – and sent me after the Wraith. It's strange, I remember both series of events now. If you weren't here talking to me – if I hadn't – god, I'm sorry I've done this to you. You shouldn't have come after me. Are Carson and Radek okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, they're fine. I'll be fine, too. Carson's waiting for us in the Puddle Jumper. He figured out why you can – um, what happened to you. It's something to do with the gene – "

A Wraith appeared around the corner, snarled at them, and began to back away. Rodney dropped John and lunged at the creature. In moments it was another dry corpse, and he pushed it away from him, gagging and shuddering from the freezing, bitter taste of it.

"Rodney?"

"Doctor McKay?"

The voices of his teammates pulled him out of the fog of pain the Wraith's energy had wrapped around him. "I thought – " he turned his head and spat to clear his mouth of the taste of bile and ashes, " –I thought I was getting used to it."

"We must leave, and quickly," Teyla said urgently, and Rodney pulled Sheppard's arm over his shoulders again and grimly forced himself on. By the time they reached the docking bay and the cloaked Puddle Jumpers the only one not staggering and gasping for breath was Teyla, and the strain of supporting Aiden was beginning to show in the deepening lines around her mouth.

Carson jumped up when they appeared. "What have you done to yourselves now?" he exclaimed, coming forward with Markham to help them into the Jumper.

"Check on Ford first, he took a pretty good blow to the head," Sheppard instructed. "Markham, take the other Jumper. I want to get out of here now." He stumbled toward the pilot's seat, but Rodney pushed him into the seat behind it.

"Let me, Major. You can hardly stand up by yourself, much less fly this thing." He sat and placed his hands on the controls, but nothing happened. "What –" he muttered. John leaned over and put his hand on the console and it lit up immediately.

"It may not recognize your gene anymore, Rodney." Carson strapped Ford into the other passenger seat before checking his pupils.

"Guess I'm driving after all," Sheppard tried to grin as he switched seats with Rodney.

Moments later the cloaked Jumpers were dodging the Wraith Darts surrounding the hiveship. They cleared the field without revealing their presence and headed back to Proculis.

The return trip was blessedly uneventful. Carson quickly diagnosed Ford with a mild concussion and let him slip into a light doze from which the physician woke him every few hours. An examination of Rodney showed nothing urgent in need of care since his nosebleed had already stopped.

John lasted nearly three hours into the long return trip before succumbing to exhaustion. Carson and Rodney gently transferred him to one of the benches in the rear of the Jumper so the Scotsman could take over the controls. At his suggestion, Rodney relinquished the copilot's seat to Teyla and stretched out on the other bench. To his surprise, he fell into a dreamless sleep almost at once.


	10. Part Ten

A/N: I have no medical schooling or training. The medical and scientific details in this section, and in the entire story, have been completely made up by me, so all mistakes are mine. The way I see it, when you're dealing with experimental gene therapy and critters that suck the life out of you, it's all fiction and anything goes. The symptoms and definition of septic shock, however, were taken from the WebMD internet site

Thanks are once again due to drschatten for the original plotbunny and to MachingMonkey for her beta work on the first half – I couldn't have finished it without you! Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed it, especially BigRedCanuck – that's absolutely the best compliment I could possibly receive!

* * *

Part Ten

Rodney was in the infirmary. Again. Trying to wait patiently for Carson to return with the results of his blood test.

He still felt sick, but it wasn't too bad. At least he was clean and dressed in fresh scrubs. He was mostly tired. And hungry, he was _so_ hungry. The MRE Carson had given him just didn't taste right. He still had the taste of ashes in his mouth from that last Wraith: dry and papery, gritty and smoky. He'd managed to choke down a few bites, but his stomach was clenching and the bile rose in the back of his throat. He managed to grab a basin before losing the meager contents of his stomach.

A few minutes later, as he sat there shivering and trying to suppress dry heaves, he felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to find Sheppard, looking nearly as bad as Rodney felt, offering a wet washcloth. He reached for it, and suddenly experienced that almost overwhelming hunger again.

"Get away from me," he rasped, snatching his hand back.

Sheppard looked startled. "Huh?"

Rodney scrambled off the infirmary bed, keeping it between himself and John.

"I _want _I'm hungry, Major, I'm _so_ hungry. Get away from me, do you hear me?" His voice rose. "You have to stop me, John, I want it, god, I _want_ it!" He was shaking with the need to grab Sheppard, or anyone who came near him, and suck as much energy as he could out of them. All those Wraith lives had filled him with cold power but hadn't fulfilled the deep-rooted appetite he felt now.

Something warm and wet dripped down his upper lip and into his mouth and he automatically licked his lips, tasting blood. He reached up to touch it and his fingers came away smeared with red. He was still shaking, his heart pounding against his ribcage, making it hard to catch his breath. He staggered, suddenly lightheaded, and sat heavily on the floor.

He heard Sheppard yelling for Carson and the duty nurse, and then the room spun away and he slipped into welcome darkness.

* * *

The first thing to intrude were the voices. His semi-conscious mind automatically tagged each one, and he let himself relax again as they were identified.

"…wasn't really expecting it, but it's not surprising. The mutation in his genes reached the point where it made an abrupt change to his body, trying to shut down his digestive system, taking the final steps towards relying solely on the energy he drained for sustenance. The nosebleeds you mentioned were probably early warning signs. He went into septic shock – his immune system finally sat up and took notice and initiated an extreme response to what it perceived as an infection. We managed to stabilize him long enough for the retrovirus to correct the mutated gene."

Medical voodoo, packaged in that mesmerizing Scots burr that made anything sound plausible. Whatever Carson was talking about, he didn't understand it.

He must have made some sound or movement, because suddenly someone was pulling up his eyelid and shining a bright light in his eye. He batted it away irritably.

"Rodney? Come on now, open your eyes. You've been asleep long enough."

"If you'd quit with the damn light," he muttered, squinting. "What happened?" He managed to pry his eyes open and found Carson, Elizabeth, and John smiling down at him.

"You were very sick, Rodney, but you're doing much better now." Elizabeth reached for his hand and he almost let her take it before the memories burst out of the fog of sleep into full Technicolor in his mind.

"No! You can't touch me, Elizabeth. No one can touch me!" He snatched his hand away, only to have it grabbed and held firmly by Sheppard. He tried frantically to pull it away, but John was strong and Rodney was in no shape to resist. Seconds ticked by and as Sheppard continued to stand there, a happy grin unfolding across his face, Rodney slowly relaxed.

"You aren't – you're okay. I'm – what, am I cured? I'm not turning into a Wraith anymore?" The relief was so great he closed his eyes so they wouldn't see how close he was to losing it. John's hand squeezed his gently before releasing it.

"You were never turning into a Wraith, Rodney. I don't quite know what you _were_ turning into, but I think it's safe to say you wouldn't have survived it, so it's good we got you back in time," Carson said.

Elizabeth's face became serious. "I don't care what's happening to you, Rodney, don't ever run off like that again. We almost lost you. You have responsibilities here – and friends who need you and will help you."

He could feel his face turning red. "I had to go. I _had_ to. You don't know what it was like, I couldn't trust myself. And then I thought – Chaya made me believe – that you were all dead."

"I still can't believe you went to her. What were you thinking?" The major sounded outraged.

"I thought – I hoped she'd know what was happening to me. She has to know more about the Wraith than anyone else in this galaxy. I thought, since I wasn't asking for direct help…but she didn't know, either." His tone grew sour. "And then she messed with my head and sent me after the Wraith. Can't we…I don't know, do something to her?"

"Like what?" Sheppard sounded resigned, "how do you spank someone who can turn into pure energy? The best punishment is to stay as far away from her as possible."

Rodney huffed irritably and decided to change the subject. "So what _was_ happening to me, if I wasn't turning into a Wraith?"

"For the most part," Carson began, "my conclusions are only speculation, educated guesses. The substance the Wraith introduce into their victims that makes it possible for them to feed on humans interacted with the artificial ATA gene I gave you and caused a mutation. It must have started very quickly, because the Wraith was not only unable to feed on you, it was drained of energy…I really need to study that chemical more," he said as he warmed to his subject. "It must spread through the cells incredibly swiftly, like a neurotoxin. Imagine the applications if you could use it to deliver medication…"

"Carson!" A chorus of voices pulled him back to his audience.

"Where was I…the mutation gave Rodney the ability to draw some kind of energy from humans and from the Wraith. He was _not_, however, turning into a Wraith. They feed on – on a person's life force, for lack of a better term. It's certainly something that we can't detect or measure at our current level of technology. None of us who were touched by Rodney aged like a Wraith victim does, so I think it's safe to say that he was taking something different."

"Wait a minute," Sheppard interrupted, "why did we just get really tired when Rodney…ummm, did what he did…but the Wraith turned into so much dust?"

"Actually, it was Rodney that gave me that solution when you told me what he said to you on the hiveship."

Rodney's mouth dropped open. "I did? To tell you the truth, I don't really remember much about it…"

"You told the major that you thought their molecular structure was unstable. I think you were right, it's part of what allows them to regenerate damaged tissue. But when you drained energy from them, there was nothing to hold them together. They weren't dust, Major, they were dead cells."

Sheppard looked mildly nauseated. He wasn't the only one.

Carson hastened to add, "That was dust is mainly composed of: dead skin cells." This statement didn't really help the general feeling in the room that this was definitely more than they wanted to know.

"I'm almost afraid to ask," Rodney muttered. "What did you do to me?" He paused, realizing how accusatory he sounded. "I mean, don't think I'm not grateful, I am. You saved my life. I'm just a little curious about how you did it. Should I be watching for any side effects?"

The doctor looked thoughtful. "Well, you might find your ATA gene works a bit better."

Rodney sat up straight looking like someone had just told him tomorrow was Christmas and there were fully charged ZPM's under the tree.

"Keep an eye out for a bit more hair on your head, a certain feckless disregard for orders, and an overwhelming urge to shoot things." Carson couldn't keep the grin off his face as everyone looked puzzled. "I was able to reverse the mutation by giving you a stronger version of the ATA gene. The strongest I've come across, in fact."

All heads swiveled automatically to Sheppard, then to Rodney.

"You mean we're _related_ now?" Rodney asked in mock horror.

The grin on John's face was even bigger than Carson's. "I always wanted a little brother," he said casually.

No one missed the brief expression of startled delight that crossed Rodney's face, quickly replaced by a horrendous scowl. "My mother always said you can choose your friends but you can't choose your relatives."

The End


End file.
